


where the love light gleams

by little_lotte4



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21882454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_lotte4/pseuds/little_lotte4
Summary: Maybe it was a little pathetic of Steve to ask his roommate to pretend to date him on Christmas, but he couldn't go through another year of having to tell everyone that he's still single. Because really, it was getting old.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 9
Kudos: 109





	1. Chapter 1

He decided it the night before. It seemed genius in the moment, the idea striking him suddenly and blowing him away by how _easy_ of a solution it was. Easy, he told himself. Natasha had his back, of course she would say yes. Easy.

Then morning came.

After serving two tours in the army, his internal clock always had him waking up before the sun had even risen. But in the four years they had lived together Steve could count on his hand the amount of times she had been up as early as he was, and of course that morning was an exception. She was right there in their kitchen, pouring coffee into her usual cup. A novelty mug covered in black cats that Wanda had gotten her for a birthday at some point. Her hair was a mess and she had yet to put on any makeup, still in her pajamas and wrapped in a blue jacket that looked suspiciously like the one he had lost a few months before.

Good. _Convenient._

"You're up early," he commented in place of a greeting.

She didn't glance up, but she did open the cabinet to retrieve another cup without him even having to ask. "Not by choice. Had to get to work earlier today," she explained.

"You're going like that?"

She pulled the jacket closer to her, the fabric fitting against her body in a way that made Steve respectfully turn to the fridge. He pulled out the cream and grabbed the sugar on his way back to the counter, eyes focused on the coffee as he mixed the two in.

"It can count as professional depending on who you ask," she said. The heels of her feet rose off the ground until she was standing on her toes, peeking over his shoulder to ensure that her coffee was being made how she liked it.

"If you're asking me, my jacket doesn't scream 'lawyer'," he said. Turning his head to find that she was closer than he thought she was. "My stolen jacket, mind you." He passed the cup to her and it seemed to pass her test as she took it with a thankful smile.

"You have no proof."

"I can take you to court. My roommate is a lawyer."

"I bet she's horrible at her job." Still, she shrugged out of the article of clothing in question, revealing a grey camisole underneath. The air was cold, their heater worked like shit and their landlord had yet to fix it, and he had already replaced the jacket with a new one in his wardrobe anyway.

"Keep it," he was quick to say, placing a hand on her arm. "It looks better on you."

"What do I owe you now?"

A favor. A very small favor that only someone as desperate as he was would ask. He felt the words wanting to come up, felt the nervous energy in the pit of his stomach now that there was an opportunity. They didn't come out though. _Couldn't_ come out.

A third joined them in the form of a black cat. She leapt onto the counter, purring contently at the sight of Natasha as she slinked closer to her. Liho pawed at her, demanding her attention as Natasha started scratching behind her ears. Steve had always wanted a dog but didn't really have the mental energy to take care of anyone, even himself, sometimes, so he refrained. He was excited when Natasha brought in the stray that had been pawing at their window for months, for all of three days until he realized how much the cat hated him. Still, he tried to pet her like Natasha was, a gentle scratch behind the ears and under the chin. But his attempt only earned him a quick swat from a cat paw as Liho ducked away from him. "A nicer cat."

Natasha picked her up, holding her close as Steve swore that the cat _glared_ at him. "Watch yourself, Rogers."

"Alright, I'll leave your precious cat alone. Want breakfast?"

"If you're making it, then yes."

She hovered around him as he cooked, talking to him about nothing and everything as they started their day. There was an opening to ask what he needed to, there was a few actually, but none of them seemed right. And every time he gathered the courage to say _it_ the conversation was shifting to another place. Before he knew it, she was gathering her things and turning back to her room. Just like that his window was closing.

"Nat," he called. _Ask her_. She'll say yes, he knew she would. It was Nat. _Or_... or he could go for a run. Which seemed a lot more appealing in the moment. "Have a good day at work," he said instead.

"You too, Steve."

* * *

Steve heaved a sigh as he stared at the illustration in front of him. The same illustration that he had been trying to work on the entire morning, and after hours of work it left him creatively frustrated and with only a few markings on the page to show for it. Nothing was _working_. The pencil strokes were not moving how he wanted them to, the lines looking nothing like how he envisioned. He pushed off his desk, his chair rolling away from his work as he ran a hand through his hair.

His phone vibrated loudly from his satchel. Usually he would be so invested in a drawing that he never checked his phone during work, but he was frustrated to say the least and his hand was cramping from the pencil and at that point he was thankful for any distraction.

_Heading out for a coffee and wouldn't mind company._

It was from Natasha, and the lack of emojis was alarming to say the least. So he didn't hesitate to send a quick reply to her before grabbing his bag and setting his supplies aside. When Tony had first offered him a job as a graphic designer he had been hesitant to accept. He didn't like the idea of mixing business with personal, or the idea of Tony giving him a hand out when he came home from the army. Ultimately he had taken the job, and as he was walking the few blocks to him and Natasha's usual coffee shop he was grateful for the flexible schedule Tony (well, Pepper) had given him.

Natasha was already there when he pushed the doors open, her blouse and dress pants a stark contrast from her morning appearance. She occupied a table in the back, a scowl written deep in her features as she glared at the empty seat across from her. Yet her face softened a bit at the sight of him, and he didn't know why that made him feel something warm in his chest at the thought. "Rough morning?" He asked when he sat down.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," she shrugged.

"Want to talk about it?" There was a coffee waiting for him, the writing on the side showing that she ordered him his usual. "Thanks, by the way."

"Don't mention it. And no, it's nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing."

She hesitated as she contemplated sharing. He was patient, his attention completely on her as he waited. "Rumlow hit on me again," she said finally, "I worked hard to get where I am, and some sleazy coworker treats me like garbage." There was a fresh wave of anger on her face, and if Steve had never seen her in her pajamas with a face mask on then he might have been slightly intimated.

"You don't deserve that," Steve assured her. She's mentioned him enough times that he was familiar with the man, and he knew enough that if he ever actually met him he wasn't sure he could stop himself from taking a swing at him. How Natasha had not managed to do so herself, he would never know. "Can't you get HR involved?"

"Like they'd do anything. It's nothing new, you know? That's the worst part. If it's not Rumlow then it's just some other guy crossing a line." She sighed, her eyes dropping to the table with a shake of her head. "Doesn't matter," she insisted, even if there was still that veiled anger. It _did_ matter, but she clearly didn't want to talk about it so he was willing to drop it. "What about you? Something was bothering you this morning, and it looks like it still is."

Of course she'd catch on, she probably only took one look at him and instantly knew. "That obvious?" He asked.

"You're an open book. What is it? Work?" She guessed.

"No. I barely got anything done today but no."

She leaned forward with her chin propped up on her hand as she analyzed him. "Has to be something personal then. It's not anything with Bucky. But maybe something with your mom- no," she said suddenly, "It's your love life," she declared.

"I broke things off with Sharon."

"I thought it was going well?"

He had already been through the entire conversation with Bucky already. He didn't understand why it was so awkward talking about these things, it was dating. Just dating. Even if he was embarrassingly new to it. In high school he had never caught anyone's attention being as skinny as he was. After graduating he had gained some muscle so he could join the army, where he gained _even more_ muscle and it felt like he had an entirely new body in a way. But then he was back home, and suddenly, women and men were slipping him their numbers and not-so-subtly flirting with him more than Steve ever expected. Still, it was strange talking about it. Some things were just _personal_. A relationship should be shared by the people in it, not Bucky handing him a beer and clasping a hand on his shoulder while saying "that's some shit" after Steve told him about another failed relationship. Now he had to go through the whole thing again with Natasha _of all people_. He looked at the garlands hanging from the ceiling, the Christmas light necklaces the workers were wearing, and the poster with the seasonal drinks, anywhere but Natasha. "It turns out she's Peggy's cousin."

"No."

"Yes."

"God, Rogers, you just can't catch a break," Natasha laughed.

"This is so comforting, I enjoy our talks so much, Nat." Steve said, running a hand through his hair.

Peggy was still a _very_ sore subject. It was possibly the worst breakup Steve had ever had, he had hurt her so badly that she didn't even want to see him face to face, and he _still_ was not sure what he did. It started over the phone when she had expressed her discomfort over Natasha. Which still, Steve did not understand. She was Natasha. Just Natasha. His roommate that he found on Craigslist, who told dad jokes that made him roll his eyes, and roped him into movie marathons that she quoted along to every week. Peggy had told him that they should just get together, that she wouldn't stand in their way. By the end of the night he had been officially dumped with nothing to show for it except a dead phone, and the next morning Bucky had gone with him to pick up his things from Peggy's. And that was the end of it, even if Steve still didn't know what he had done.

"Look, I'm sorry," Natasha said, cutting into Steve's thoughts, "I shouldn't have laughed."

"It's fine," Steve assured her before he chuckled and said, "It's pretty funny, though." Which had Natasha laughing into her coffee cup, Steve was sure if she were anyone else it would have spilled all over her. Natasha was strangely graceful and coordinated after years of ballet, something she revealed to him after he brought up her grace. He had instantly been able to picture her dancing, his hand twitching to draw the image in his mind out. He never did though. He felt like it would be intruding on Natasha's life back in Russia. A life she rarely shared anything about with him, and he was not going to let his mind think about it if she did not want him to.

"You're pushing it, Nat."

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Natasha said, her laughter dying down.

"And now I have to deal with my mom," he said, continuing where he left off before he was _rudely_ interrupted.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "I thought you two were close?"

"We are." Natasha looked at him expectantly for a further explanation. "We ran into my mom while we were out once. They were talking for awhile and it just turned into my mom _insisting_ that she joined us for Christmas since she couldn't go to London with her family this year. I told Sharon she didn't have to, but she thought it would be _fun,_ I guess. So I didn't tell her that I thought it was too soon because I couldn't say no." He felt like an idiot saying that out loud, and hearing himself say the words just made him realize how _weird_ it really was.

"Seems like your mom really liked her."

"That's the thing, though. That's just how my mom is," Steve said. He couldn't hold it against her. He loved his mom more than anything, loved her for her sweet nature and loved her even more for teaching him to be the same way. But the moment the invitation was in the air he couldn't help the look he gave her. One that he hoped clearly meant that he didn't think it was a good idea, but he only got a stern look back. A reminder to be polite without his mom even having to say it. "They didn't even get to know each other."

"Did you tell your mom yet?"

"Yes," Steve trailed off. _Now or never._ "I told her I ended things to be with someone else."

_"Steve."_

"I know, I shouldn't have lied. But it was the first time she had met someone I was seeing."

"It wasn't your choice for them to meet. It was a coincidence," she said. He hadn't realized he had looked away until he felt her hand over his, making his eyes meet hers. But it was only a few moments before she was pulling her hand away, embarrassed by the notion as she placed her hands safely in her lap. "You shouldn't be hard on yourself about this."

His mom worried about him. She didn't bother to hide it, not when she called him every week just to check on him. Or insisted on seeing him sometimes because she _had_ to see for herself if he was in an okay place. He couldn't help feeling like he let her down. A relationship was progress. Proof that Steve was having a normal life after coming home, that there was something secure in his future even if he never saw that with Sharon. For it to end so soon for nothing… he couldn't tell his mom that. He shook his head, "It's more than just them meeting."

Natasha knew there was something else there, but she also knew not to push. "Hey, if she's anything like you then she'll understand."

She would understand. Would understand completely that the PTSD is getting out of hand again, that some days he didn't want to leave his bed, that the beard he had growing in just showed up without him even noticing, that he hated therapy more than anything and didn't want to go back. He wouldn't even be able to tell the days apart if it wasn't for Natasha bringing life to the apartment when he couldn't. Laughing with her friends in the living room, singing softly to herself whenever she was straightening up the place, talking to her cat when she thinks Steve can't hear her. He needs his mom to know that he's okay. That she doesn't need to stay up at night because of him. He needs more than her understanding, and he needed Natasha to do it.

"You still haven't met her, huh?" He asked.

"Nope. You date a girl for five minutes and she gets to meet your mom but I live with you for four years and never get to. I'm starting to wonder if she even exists at this point." For the first time that day Steve found himself smiling and it must have been contagious as Natasha followed.

"I was actually wondering if you wanted to join us for Christmas."

The words were barely in the air before she insisted, "I'd be intruding."

"You wouldn't. We go to this Christmas party every year at Bucky's mom's place anyway."

It would be the perfect time to ask _the_ question, yet he hesitated. It felt creepy on his end, especially after the morning she had at work. He was no better than Rumlow, like every man in Natasha's life that saw her beauty and thought it was a reason to not treat her like a person. His mother raised him better than that. If he was going to be embarrassed showing up single _again_ , then so be it.

"You told your mom that you were seeing someone new after the breakup?" Natasha asked in place of an answer.

He hated to lie and never had a habit of doing so. For a good reason too, as he was already cracking under the pressure of Natasha's scrutiny. Feeling nervous and like he wanted to shed off his coat because of the sudden rush of heat was almost unbearable. "Yes."

"And you want me to go with you?"

He paused, knowing every answer would be held against him. "Yes."

"There's an ulterior motive. What is it?"

_Nothing_ would be a horrible answer. She wasn't going to drop it either, so he might as well give it a shot. "The normal invitation still stands even if you say no," he said instead. And he meant it. Even if bringing around a gorgeous girl and having to tell everyone that she wasn't his girlfriend would probably be almost as embarrassing as showing up alone.

"Say no to what? Being your date?" How she always managed to know everything he'd never know, but it was too late to back out. He'd take no as an answer if she understandably didn't want to. "Don't tell me that's what you were going to ask me."

"I _was_."

"Steve, you're a handsome guy. And you're nice, and can open jars, and you're funny occasionally-"

_"Thanks."_

"You would have no trouble finding a date before then," she continued.

"I don't want a date. I don't want anyone thinking I can be in a relationship that serious right now. I just need you for one night."

"This means a lot to you doesn't it?" Natasha sighed. "It's what was bothering you all morning."

Maybe it was a little pathetic of him to ask his roommate to pretend to date him on Christmas, but he couldn't go through another year of having to tell everyone that he's still single. Because, really, he was getting damn sick of it. "It does."

Natasha's eyes searched his face, and he squirmed under her gaze. He was not exactly sure what she was looking for, but then again he was not going to pretend like he understood her. She seemed to find what she was looking for as she sighed and slumped into her chair. "Fine."

"You'll do it?" He asked, surprised.

"I'll do it." She confirmed. "I don't know how any girl has broken up with you. You turn into a golden retriever when you're sad. You're a grown man, the eyes shouldn't work," Natasha grumbled.

Relief washed over Steve, _except_ \- "Why do you assume that I'm always the one dumped? Never mind, just thank you, Nat. Seriously, thank you."

"I'm going to regret this," Natasha said, pulling on her coat. She rose from her chair, "I need to get back to work, I'll see you back at the apartment."

"I'll cook dinner tonight."

"You're cooking dinner for a month."

He watched her leave, still in disbelief. And she seemed to be in a better mood when she stepped out into the winter air, even if she had to go back to her firm. Steve felt better too, like a weight had been lifted off his chest. But then it felt like it had been put right back in place when a man gazed at Natasha as she left. He was surprised she didn't notice, but what surprised him the most was the pang of jealousy it sent through him.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Mom, I'm okay really."_

" _I worry about you, Steve. This could've been good for you."_

_Steve sighed. He had been avoiding this conversation for days, teetering into weeks as they approached December. He had a decent summer with Sharon, it filled the time and she was fun to be around. Though it was clear as the weather turned colder that it wasn't going anywhere. He told her they should stick to being friends around the second week of November and he had been dodging his mom's questions about it since. It wasn't until he received a text demanding if he was going to have a plus one or not that he finally decided to call her. She was disappointed, of course, and Steve questioned why he thought it was a good idea to even say anything._

_"I know."_

_"You just haven't been yourself lately."_

_"I know."_

_"Have you talked about this in therapy? It could help, Steve, it really can-"_

_"I broke things off with Sharon because there was someone else," he said quickly. The words spilling out before he could fully realize what he was saying. He doesn't know why he did it. There was no one, and truthfully he was relieved to be single again. He didn't have to explain himself to anyone, didn't have to disappoint anyone either. But the thought of needing to go back to therapy, to avoid eye contact in the waiting room and sit on that ugly couch, and talk to a stranger about how pathetic his life had become. He would've said or done anything to avoid that._

_There was a pause on the other end as his mom tried to decide on a reaction. Probably upset that her son openly admitted to hurting Sharon, but happy that he wasn't alone again. Steve held his breath as he waited to hear which one will out rule the other. Unable to keep a grimace off his face with the safety of a phone call._

_"That's wonderful, Steve," she finally said._

_"You're not going to say anything about raising me to be better?"_

_"I raised you to be_ happy, _and I want you to be with anyone that does that for you."_

_He shut his eyes, easily picturing his mom. In the same apartment he grew up in, at the same table they had dinner at every night. She would still be in her scubs after a night shift at the hospital, more than ready to sleep but not being able to until she heard from him first. "She does make me happy," he assured her._

_"What is she like? I feel like I never get to hear about your life."_

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

_He didn't think this far. He didn't think_ at all _when he said it, but he felt himself sink deeper into the hole he created as he spoke._ _"She's funny and nice," he began. And mysterious too as he couldn't think of a single other thing to say, not that what he already has said wasn't as broad as it could get_ _. He was just about ready to come clean, to apologize and try to forget it even happened._

_He was distracted in the silence, though. There was a soft sound coming from the kitchen, delicate but quiet and he only heard it fully once he leaned against his door. Natasha's voice could barely be heard over the music playing from her phone, but he still listened, the corner of his lips tugging up into a rare smile._

" _She a lawyer,"_ _he found himself saying, "Keeps me on my toes." His_ _heart was beating faster and faster with the lie until his mind could only go one way. "We've known each other for about four years, and I haven't felt like my day is complete until I see her since then. She makes me watch some dumb movie every week but I do it just so I can spend time with her. And_ _she's… she's so beautiful, Mom."_

_"What's her name?"_

_"Natasha."_

* * *

Steve wanted to bang his head against the wall after that call with his mom. It had been a week since it happened and the memory still clouded the edge of his mind, refusing to leave as his body cringed in embarrassment at the thought. Why did he say Natasha's name? And build her up so much that his Mom wouldn't forget about her either. He would like to get some fresh air, though it would be a hassle to get out of this big, ugly building Tony had affectionately nicknamed Stark Tower, and the windows didn't open in a skyscraper. So he was trapped at his desk, forced to go through the same scene as he tried to make his deadlines for the week.

"I know artists' whole thing is pain and suffering but you're pushing it a little today, Steve."

He turned his chair to face Tony and his other visitor. Tony prided himself on being one on one with all his employees, and the unexpected drop in wasn't out of the usual at Stark Industries. Still, Steve would've liked to be alone that day. Even the interns didn't bother asking him for his coffee order once they got a good look at him. But Tony didn't really take social cues, that or he ignored them in favor of doing what he wanted to instead, and it must have been hereditary too. Morgan ran to him, jumping up to wrap her arms around him and sending the chair backwards with the force. All while yelling something that sounded like Steve's name, though at only four-years-old she never was able to say anything but "Steeb" when referring to him.

"Is this the remedy to that?" Steve asked, not able to hold onto his foul mood in that minute and hugging Morgan tightly through a flurry of sharp elbows and knees digging into him. She would probably be tall like her mother, as she was all limbs as she scrambled up the chair. Knocking the wind out of Steve when her knee landed on his stomach.

"Always works for me," Tony shrugged, settling into the chair across from Steve's desk. "Okay, Morgan, Sweetie, you're choking him." He turned to Steve, apologetic as he explained, "She doesn't know her strength."

"I don't know my strength," Morgan echoed, loosening her grip on Steve as she slipped down to the floor. Bounding back to her dad now that she had properly greeted Steve.

"So what's going on, Grumpy Pants?" Tony asked, earning a laugh from Morgan as she repeated the nickname.

"It's a long story."

"We've got time."

Morgan was as eccentric as her dad, and there had been more than a few times that she had wreaked havoc on his office while he and Tony spoke. Yet today she was strangely calm, sitting on her Dad's knee and perching her chin on the palm of her hand as she listened. Kids were nosy and loud, especially kids that came from Tony. He hesitated.

"The holidays are a lot," Steve decided on.

"That's actually a pretty short story."

There was nothing in Steve that wanted to talk to Tony about this. He wasn't even exactly sure what he should say. And he couldn't talk about his feelings because there was nothing to say. Even if it felt like _something_ wanted to come out at the thought. And Tony knew that, and wasn't going to give him an out. Still, he turned back to his tablet, intent on getting some work done even if he was the only one.

"Is Natasha seeing someone?"

That made Steve stop short, the pen falling out of his hand at the thought. He took a deep breath as he retrieved the stylus he had been trying to use on his tablet for the past hour. The advertisement had been simple, the company Stark was working with wanting to "take it back" to the forties style of art. He had drawn enough nuclear families, rosy cheeks, and army men over the past month to know that he was sick of the prompt. Still, he re-examined his work from the morning despite knowing it was ready to be sent off to the next department. "Why would that bother me?" He asked.

"Because you've been in love with her since you met her. And the last time she had a boyfriend we had to make a 'Steve only' floor," Tony said. Her last boyfriend was a _douche_ , to put it it plainly. Steve hated coming home to see Alexei in _his_ apartment, sitting on the couch after a long day so Steve couldn't, taking up Natasha's attention so he could barely even say hi to her. Steve hated him. Steve doesn't hate a lot of people but he was relieved when Natasha moved on. He cares about her, he does, she worked her way into being one of his closest friends, and his mother raised him to know how to treat people. He was concerned about her and had a right to be to as he never crossed a line with it. Just stayed up sometimes thinking about it, thinking about her and why she would choose someone that didn't deserve her. "You're thinking about him right now," Tony said, "You look pissed."

"Pissed!" Morgan repeated.

"You learned that from Steve," Tony informed her quickly. To which she nodded excitedly before Steve could even protest.

"Natasha isn't seeing anyone. And if she was then I wouldn't mind as long as she was happy because I'm _not_ in love with her," Steve insisted.

"Denial is the first step, Steve. But whatever, we came in for a different reason," Tony revealed.

Tony reached into a tote bag he had brought in, the front decorated with a festive Santa and tree. He whispered to Morgan for a few seconds as they rummaged through it until she happily exclaimed, "This one!"

Morgan pulled out a pair of reindeer ears, laughing excitably as she ran back to Steve. He lowered his head, allowing her to place them on him and examine her work. "He looks pretty!" She exclaimed.

The ears were covered in miniature bells, loud despite their size and difficult to ignore as they chimed every time Steve moved even slightly. They were small too, squeezing his head as a sharp pain began to unfurl at his temples. Still, Morgan seemed pleased. So he shook his head once, actually managing to smile as Morgan giggled. "I want one!" She exclaimed.

Tony retrieved another pair, looking just as amused as Morgan as he handed them to her. Once they were on she returned to Steve, showing Tony how they matched. Steve cracked at that, unable to stop the smile on his face. "Hold on," Tony said quickly, pulling out his phone and aiming the camera at them. A true Stark, Morgan posed next to him, already smiling brightly at the camera.

The decision to stay in bed until the last possible minute was suddenly biting him in the ass, and he scratched at his beard, mindful of the way he was past due for a shave. He was wearing a button up at least, but he had forgotten to tuck the shirt into his pants. Tony held onto pictures too, he still had more than enough embarrassing blackmail of Steve from when they were teenagers. "What happened to 'Steve's in a bad mood?'" He protested.

"My company, my rules."

He caught a glimpse of Morgan. Tony and Pepper usually let her choose her own clothes and more often than not it showed in the strange combinations. Her mom must have dressed her today as she was in a nice dress that had left a trail of sparkles through his office. She smiled up at him, eyes almost closing with the size of it, so he relented. He draped an arm around her as she hugged him tightly and smiled. His eyes burned from the combination of the three hours of sleep he had gotten the night before and the flash of the camera, but it was worth it. Steve hoped to be a father someday, even if it didn't feel possible most of the time. So he liked being in Morgan's life, liked being an uncle to her and seeing her grow. And as Morgan hugged him one last time he felt his mood improving for the first time that day.

"Natasha would think this is cute," Tony noted. "I should send this to Natasha."

"Don't-"

"She's already replying," Tony interrupted. "Maybe she does _like like_ you, Steve. Ah, never mind she said you look like you just went on a bender."

"Thanks."

"And that the bender won." Steve only stared at him, not having an answer to that. After a pause Tony added, "She's kinda right."

"You know, if we did something with that hair, trim the beard, not shave it but let's clean it up a bit, Natasha might notice," Tony offered. Not that Steve asked.

"What's with the sudden interest in setting me up with Natasha?" He asked. _Not_ that it was going to happen, or that Steve even _wanted_ it to.

Tony looked at him, a moment of worry crossing his features as he did so, but it was gone quickly. He composed himself, hiding what was there only a second before. "I'm sick of being the only dad around here. Also your moping is bumming us all out," he insisted. He seemed to drop the casual tone though, and his voice softened as he said, "And Natasha is just about the only thing that made you yourself again when you came home."

He didn't know when he became a source of everyone worrying. Why everyone was always telling him that they understood what he was going through or always feeling the need to check in on him. The only person that didn't do that was Natasha. He could actually breathe around her, and he never had to worry about disappointing or upsetting her. She didn't know a thing about him being in the army and he intended on keeping it that way. If he ever lost that source of comfort, if he ever lost _her,_ he doesn't know if he can handle it.

Tony's phone vibrated, the noise louder as it echoed off of Steve's desk. Tony picked it up, evidentially please by whatever the text said. "She also said the picture is cute," he revealed, "Just something to think about, Steve."

He thinks too much. All he does every day is just think of all the things he wanted to forget. He thinks about how much of a drain he is on the people around him, and how much he wishes he could feel normal again. Still, he nodded to Tony, as even with as stubborn as he was he couldn't say a single bad thing about Natasha. She leaves dishes in the sink sometimes and her cat sheds everywhere, but other than that he had no complaints.

"What am I drawing for you this time, Morgan?" Steve asked, remembering their ritual and being more than ready to talk about something besides Nat.

She looked pleased that the attention was on her again, not that Steve wanted it in the first place, and she leaned forward to look over his desk. "A bunny!" She decided quickly.

It was a nice break from all the princesses he had drawn for her lately. Though she did have a phase over the summer where she demanded that he draw her frogs every time she came to visit him. "Does that have anything to do with that giant bunny I saw your dad dragging through the lobby the other day?" He asked, receiving an enthusiastic nod from Morgan. He began the drawing on a spare sheet of paper he had, adjusting his shoulder so Morgan can watch as he worked and comment on the colors she wanted. Though Tony seemed less interest in the drawing choice for the day.

"Pepper didn't even like it."

* * *

"Absolutely not."

"C'mon, Nat."

"I said no, Steve."

" _Home Alone_ is a classic," Steve protested. "How can you not like it? Everybody likes it."

"I just don't get how you forget your kid, not once, but twice? There are two movies! Two! You think they would have learned to do a better head count or something- are you laughing at me?" Natasha demanded.

"I can listen to you complain all day, you know that?" Steve said. He pressed play and tucked the remote behind him for safe measure. He had watched more than enough movies for her and sometimes he had to demand control of the remote. It was his right as payer of half the bills.

"I'm not _complaining_ , I'm making an observation."

He was ready to retort that _it was the same thing,_ but before he could he was being knocked backward off the couch. Somehow ending up flat on his stomach on the floor with Natasha on top of him as she kept him firmly planted to the ground. "Can I have the remote?" She asked.

"I don't understand how you do that," Steve groaned. He reached up, his hand feeling around on the couch until he found the controller. But instead of placing it in Natasha's waiting hands, he hid it beneath him again.

"You're easy to surprise."

"No, I'm not. I just can never hear you coming. Do they teach you that in ballet?" He turned around easily, but she still refused to get up. She placed her hands on his chest as she straddled him, his mind going to places that didn't have a damn thing to do with whatever was on the screen.

"Yes, Steve. After the pliés we would take a course on throwing any and all future overly muscled roommates to the ground," she deadpanned. She had to know what she was doing as she leaned over him. So close that her hair was brushing against his face and he could feel her chest against his with every breath. It went through his mind without his permission. How easy it would be to lean up just a few inches and kiss her, to run his hands through her hair and find out if it was as soft as it always looked. To feel her and do the things he was guilty of thinking about. The longing to do so ran deep, completely impossible to ignore as she shifted on top of him.

"Overly muscled?" He asked, trying to distract himself. To have his mind go anywhere that wasn't Natasha.

"You never answered my question," she said, ignoring him.

Things were going to be _very_ embarrassing for him if she moved only an inch down. He gripped her hips to stop her, but he only caught her bare skin as her shirt rode up. So he did the first thing he could think of and flipped them over. Where he ended up hovering over her with both hands on either side of her head, effectively caging her in with his body. "No, you can't have the remote."

It didn't help. The tie her hair had been in slipped out at some point, leaving her curls to fan out around her and allowing him a clear view of her face. Her makeup was smudged after a full day of work and the circles under her eyes were darker than they usually were, but she was still beautiful. In fact, ever since he met her he had never seen anyone else that could even compare to her. He never got to do this, never _allowed_ himself to, to just look at her. And it wasn't just difficult but completely impossible to think of anything else. He almost lost all of his self control and kissed her then, but then she was speaking again. Grabbing him back to reality and back to his common decency too.

"Any way I could persuade you?"

_Well_.

"Oh fuck-"

They both looked up, noticing Bucky for the first time as he took in the scene before him. He met Steve's eye, raising his brows at the whole thing as Steve turned red at the invasion. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Just a fight over the remote, which," Natasha said, grabbing the remote from Steve and slipping out from under him, "I won."

Steve was frozen, staring at the carpet that she was just on. A million question going through his head as he replayed the scene over in his mind. Wondering what that was, or better yet, what would have happened if they weren't interrupted.

_Nothing_. Steve thought quickly as he sat back down on the couch, feeling like an idiot. He chose a spot away from Natasha since he didn't really trust himself to be next to her, and Bucky hesitantly took up the space between them. _Absolutely nothing._

"What are we watching?" Bucky asked. Though he wasn't looking at the screen, he was giving Steve a look that meant he was going to want answers later. A talk that was probably going to involve feelings, and Natasha, and feelings about Natasha that everyone _thinks_ that he has.

"Not _Home Alone_ ," Natasha gloated, waving the remote through the air. Not that Steve even cared anymore.

"Good. How do you forget your fucking kid?" Bucky asked.

"Exactly what I said."

"One in the same, Romanoff."

* * *

_What the hell was happening before I got there?_

Steve sat on his bed staring at his phone. It had been hours since Bucky had left but he knew he did not get off easy when he left without a word about what he saw. The text was expected, yet Steve was still unsure of what to say.

Truthfully, he didn't know what that was. Living with Natasha was interesting. He was used to being near women and living with them. Preffered it, actually. It was just him and his mom growing up, and the short time he lived with Bucky it wasn't unusual for his mom or sisters to show up either. And at first it wasn't strange living with Natasha. She was just a roommate, someone to share a space with so he could stop taking up Bucky's guest room. It wasn't until she knocked on his door one night, insisting that he watched a movie with her did she actually become a part of his life. A friend, and a close one too. He's seen almost side of her, and he knows more about her than any of the people she dates ever could. But the Christmas plans had gotten to his head, or at least that's what he was telling himself. She was pretty and he never denied that. Never actually _told her_ that he thought so, but he doubted no one had never mentioned it before. He liked being around her but he could say the same for any of his friends. Well, not always Tony. How attraction was found in that, he didn't know. What he did know is that tonight was nothing more than him getting in his head and mistaking Natasha just being herself for something that it wasn't. He was sure of it.

Steve finally typed out a reply he was satisfied with to Bucky and hit send.

_Nothing_.

There was a knock on his door, but it was swinging open before he could even say come in. He's rarely been in Natasha's room. Even when she invites him in it felt wrong, like he was intruding on a space that should be hers. She didn't feel the same way. As more than a few times she had come in unnanounced, almost catching him half naked more than he'd like to admit. If it really bothered him then he would've utilized the lock on the door, but he didn't. For some reason.

"I have rules," Natasha announced. She climbed onto his bed and settled across from him. Their knees touched and they were closer than they needed to be, but she didn't notice.

"Rules?" Steve asked. His eyes went to the point of contact for a few seconds, though he quickly looked back to her face once he realized what he was doing.

"Yes, Rogers, rules," she said. "A list of things I won't do."

"Alright, let's hear them," Steve sighed. He tried to get comfortable and leaned against the headboard, but he felt stiff, rigid in his body and strangely uncomfortable in his own room. The feeling not only new but unwelcome.

If she noticed then she said nothing. Choosing instead to get to what she originally came in for. "One." She extended a finger. "No pet names."

His nose wrinkled at the thought. He had a girlfriend for a few months that called him Stevie. He hated it. It sounded like a name a fat house cat should have, not a human. Natasha liked the nickname, for no other reason besides the fact that Steve despised it and she never let him forget it either. "Really? Because I already picked some out for you," he mentioned, not wanting to miss the opportunity to get back at her.

"Yeah? What are they, _Stevie?"_

"Forget it, I'll ask Wanda to be my date instead."

She rolled her eyes, though it ended with a small smile as she playfully elbowed him. "Second," she continued, "Boundaries. You can hold my hand or put your arm around me, but nothing creepy."

"Nat, you know I wouldn't do that that." _Didn't she?_

"Third," she began again, ignoring him, "No cutesy fake stories."

"We'll just act natural," Steve shrugged. Though Natasha snorted out a laugh the second the words were out. "What?"

"You're a horrible liar," she pointed out. "And you're awkward sometimes." She was right. _Rude,_ but right. His mom knew him well too, would probably see straight through him regardless of how convincing Natasha was. "Hey, you look a little freaked out."

"I'm fine," he insisted. His eyes went to his lap. He always did that as a kid, lied through his teeth as his voice shook and his eyes went to the floor. He got a little better over time, he would fake eye contact by looking at someone's nose and his voice wouldn't betray him after a certain age, but lying was never a skill he gained or even wanted. It felt like nothing was going to take the guilt away.

Until Natasha did something he didn't expect. Her hand was on his cheek. Gentle in a way he never expected from her as her thumb moved in soothing circles over the area. His hand covered hers, needing her to not move away and not even knowing why. "It's only one night, and if it doesn't work out then it will be a hilarious story one day," she offered, trying to get a laugh out of him even if the effort fell flat.

His phone ringed before he could reply. The grating noise being enough to break whatever trance they were in. Leaving Natasha to scramble off the bed, an excuse already on her lips about having an early day and needing to go to bed. Not that Steve could really process anything she was saying through his embarrassment. He glanced at his phone, not sure if he was thankful for the distraction or if he wanted to throw the thing at the wall for ruining the moment. In the end he just settled for glaring at it like it wasn't an inanimate object and checked the message from Bucky.

_Bullshit._

* * *

As Christmas loomed closer, Steve's anxiety rose everyday. Until it was the twenty-fifth and he was pretty sure the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach was a good enough reason to not even go. But he couldn't do that to his Mom after their history with the holiday. Steve used to love Christmas. By far his favorite holiday as a kid. Growing up, around this time was when he had the most memories of his dad, who always came back for Christmas even when he was gone the rest of the year. Steve never understood why his father joined the army, even when he followed in his footsteps after he turned eighteen. He especially didn't understand after he had come home knowing that his dad hadn't been as fortunate.

After being dispatched from the army he was lost. He felt empty, like he had truly lost the last connection to his dad. But his mom almost stopped living when she lost her husband, and Steve was not going to put her through that again. So after coming back, he started his life again. Moved further into the city after finding a roommate on craigslist and meeting up with her in a coffee shop. Instead of introducing herself she had made fun of his khakis and her laugh was so pleasing to hear that Steve didn't even mind. She was beautiful, funny and outgoing and Steve wanted to be near her. By the end of the day he was signing the lease and Natasha was officially his roommate. Even if he didn't realize it, she was the brightest light in his life.

And he was probably going to ruin everything with her.

Laying in bed wrapped in his thoughts, he didn't even notice how much time had passed until Natasha was knocking on his door. Entering without permission, _like always,_ and even sitting on the edge of the bed while she examined him.

"Am I really seeing this? Steve Rogers still in bed past six AM?" She gasped. Steve shot her an unamused look as she set the back of her hand against his forehead. "Are you dying?"

"Yes. Dying to get a new roommate."

" _Please_ , like you could ever find a better one," she stated confidently. "Besides who else would fake date you? Get up, Lover Boy, we should head out soon."

The blanket was torn off of him, somehow exposing him even more than he already felt. Though she did give him privacy as she left the room, softly laughing to herself as she went about her morning. His body felt heavy, like even making those few steps to start his day was too much. He tried to pull the covers back over him, but it didn't budge. Frustrated, he leaned up only to see Liho sitting in the middle of pile, tucked up and comfortable as she stared up at Steve. Almost challenging as she stopped him from going back to sleep. She must have followed Natasha in since the damned thing followed her everywhere, but she always ran out of Steve's room the second Natasha was no longer in it. He figured today would be the exception, that she suddenly needed to claim his bedroom in addition to the whole apartment.

"I hate you."

Liho rolled over, gloating in the way she took his entire bed from him. He relented, getting up simply to get away from her as she stretched over the mattress.

Showers, Steve learned, were a great place to think. Both a blessing and a curse in his case. Sometimes he just wants the quiet with only himself as company. Other times he feels trapped in his thoughts and would do anything to just shut them off as easily as he could the water.

He contemplated his decision as the water rained around him in warm sheets. It's not the first time they've pretended to be a couple, but it's the longest time they've ever done it. Natasha had used him, usually without him knowing it, as a fake boyfriend to fend off any unwanted attention, but it was a short amount of time. And really all Natasha would do is slip her hand into his, then whatever guy that was hitting on her would back off. But that was in front of complete strangers, this was his friends and family. And Steve had always been a terrible liar.

The mirror was fogged when he did get out, distorting his reflection as it resorted him to nothing but a blur. He wiped the condensation away, actually getting a look at himself for the first time in awhile. He didn't like what he saw. His hair was longer, and he was actually able to push the wet strands back. His beard could use some grooming and he was sure the bags under his eyes didn't go unnoticed by anyone that looked at him. There was something else too. Something he couldn't place but he couldn't ignore either. Whatever it was, he didn't like it.

He brushed his teeth, trying to keep his eyes off whatever was in front of him the entire time. Though he hesitated a moment once he was finished, knuckles grasping onto the counter as something strong washed over him. He didn't go back to his room yet, instead he fixed up his beard. He didn't have the energy to take it completely off but by the end of it it looked better. He wasn't about to attempt a haircut on himself, but he towel dried the strands and made a mental note to try to slick it back once they were fully dried. Back in his room he found a blue button up that wasn't wrinkled, a nice one too, and put it on. He remembered to tuck his shirt in and didn't forget a belt either. He stayed true to his promise to himself to try to make his outgrown hair look better, and by the time he was done he didn't look half bad. Better than he had been looking for the past few weeks, definitely. It felt like progress, and with that he went to check in with Natasha, satisfied.

He knocked on her door softly, leaning close to it as he called out, "Almost ready?"

The door was swinging open suddenly and he was face to face with her. She looked ready, dressed in a simple dress and done up just the right amount. Her hair was down, he didn't even notice until that moment that it had grown out since she had come home with a cut much shorter than she usually kept it. He liked it better long. Liked that she kept the natural curl when it was at that length. Her dress was blue, matching his shirt without them even realizing it and she had chosen a red lipstick to still stay festive.

She raised an eyebrow at him as she examined him, though it quickly slipped into a smile. "You look pretty," she said.

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" He asked, amused. He would certainly mean it if he did.

"If you want to."

"You look pretty, Natasha."

"Thank you."

"Can we go now?"

"You really make me feel special, Steve."

She lead the way out the door and onto the streets, she hailed the taxi too without him even realizing it. He was distracted. Brooklyn would always be his home but he had grown accustomed to his safety net in Manhattan. Had gotten used to no one having to look over him all the time and to not let his familiar surroundings suffocate him. Brooklyn felt farther than only a thirty minute drive, especially when he thought of all the things waiting for him there.

There was traffic. Lots of it too as everyone tried to get where they needed to be. Their taxi driver didn't seem to be feeling the Christmas spirit as he honked, especially when he rolled down the window just to yell some very unmerry words. The same three Christmas songs played on a loop on the crackly stereo, and the car was freezing. Still, Natasha said nothing. No joke dripping with sarcasm or even a face when she thought he couldn't see. She was calm and collected and everything he needed to be right now.

The ride was ending before he wanted it to, and it wasn't long before they were parked in front of his old apartment building. Natasha was the one to break the silence, offering him a hand. "Ready?"

He certainly hoped so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The twenty-fifth is approaching a lot faster than I would like it to but I'm pretty determined to finish this on time this year. Anyways, thanks for reading and the kind words! My tumblr is @Natasha-Romanofff if you're interested


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